


Stepped off of the plane at LAX

by AceEmerson



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - SNL, Established Relationship, M/M, canoodling, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23995774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceEmerson/pseuds/AceEmerson
Summary: Eddie goes to pick up Richie from the airport and can't keep his hands to himself.--Companion fic to the Reddie SNL AU twitter smauSet around posts 124 and 125
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 13
Kudos: 264
Collections: Reddie SNL AU Companion Fics





	Stepped off of the plane at LAX

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pandon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandon/gifts).



> This is a companion piece to the Reddie SNL twitter smau!
> 
> You don't need to read the AU to read this piece, but it will provide some context.
> 
> You can find the smau at [@snlreddie](https://twitter.com/snlreddie)  
> You can find the authors at [@LizzardEmily](https://twitter.com/LizzardEmily) (me) and [@criesinkaspbrak](https://twitter.com/criesinkaspbrak) (my lovely girl)

Eddie is full of anxious nerves as he, Bev, and Bill step into LAX. His anxiety medicine had somewhat quelled the heavy feeling in his stomach and the manic state of his head, but there’s only so much pills and meditation can do. He’s still feeling nervous and unsure. He’s scared. Scared he won’t be able to be normal enough for Richie. Scared he’ll chase him off. The meds make him feel a little out of it, but they don’t erase his thoughts or his feelings.

He clings to the construction paper in his hand, trying to stay grounded and not get lost in his own head again. He tries to focus on the here and now, and on how excited he is to be able to have Richie within his reach again. He glances down at the homemade sign he made that morning,  _ TRASHMOUTH  _ written in bold dark letters, and smiles slightly. He hopes Richie doesn’t think it’s dumb.

Bev announces that Richie has landed and Eddie feels a rush of feeling and emotion go through him. Happiness, excitement, anxiety, nerves, affection, a million things both native and foreign to his senses. Taking a deep breath, he centers himself, trying to stay present and not feel overwhelmed or out of it.

Fifteen minutes and one starbucks order later, Eddie finds himself waiting in baggage claim, flanked by his best friends and holding his sign as he waits for his… whatever Richie is to him, to come into view. He shifts his weight back and forth, impatient and feeling ready to see Richie. He wants to kiss him again. He wants to see that dumb stupid smile again. He wants to run his fingers through that messy hair again. He wants to feel that mouth on him again. He  _ wants _ .

Richie comes around the corner, and it feels like being punched in the gut. Richie looks tired and rumbled, clothes wrinkled and hair messy. He looks like he’s just been on a cross-country flight and touched down to find that the guy who was supposed to pick him up had an anxiety attack and almost cancelled. But he looks good. He looks so fucking good it’s almost unfair. Jeans and a hawaiian shirt never look as good as they do on Richie fucking Tozier.

Eddie lifts his hand to give a little wave, catching Richie’s attention easily. A grin breaks out across the comedian's face, one that makes Eddie’s heart skip a beat, and he half-jogs over to greet the posse waiting for him.

Eddie knows his eyes must look so fond when Richie laughs at the sight of the sign, but he can’t help it. Making Richie laugh is one of the greatest things in the entire world. His heart is racing, and the haze that his meds have blanketed over his consciousness is lifted with the rush of what feels like adrenaline in his veins at seeing Richie.

“How's my favorite Eddie Spaghetti!” Richie asks when he comes to a stop in front of the triad.

Eddie can’t respond for a moment, hit with a wave of affection for the man standing in front of him. Without thinking, he reaches out and pulls Richie into a tight hug, feeling happy excitement bubbling in his chest.

“That’s not my name, Trashmouth,” he quips back, but there’s a distinct lack of bite and malice from his words, weak as he feels Richie’s arms envelop him in exchange.

“Sorry about that shortstop, I forgot we changed it,” Richie responds, and Eddie can  _ hear  _ the annoying smirk in his voice, “have you always been this short, Eds? Or are you just shrinking?”

Eddie grumbles in return, but he comes out sounding more like a growl. He tries to pull away from the hug out of pure indignation, but Richie doesn’t let him go.

“Get the fuck off me, asshole,” Eddie argues, half-heartedly pushing against Richie’s chest.

“No,” Richie says happily, holding Eddie tighter and not letting him leave.

“Fuck you! You’re gross and sweaty, dickwad!” 

Eddie can practically feel Bev and Bill’s eyes boring into his back, no doubt judging him for his taste in men. He can’t blame them; he’s judging himself right now.

“Mmm yeah gonna get you all gross and make you smell like me,” Richie says, rubbing the side of his face against Eddie’s head.

Eddie does  _ not  _ squeak in disgust in response to that. He definitely does not. He simply makes a noise of protest. A masculine and firm one. Definitely not a squeak.

With one last push at Richie’s shoulders, Eddie is finally free, looking up into a pair of bright blue eyes beaming down at him. Eddie can’t pretend to be mad in the face of Richie smiling at him. It melts him, and the smile that creeps onto his own features is proof.

“Eddie, do you need help hiding this guy’s body?” Bev’s voice cuts through the air, making Eddie and Richie both turn to look at her.

Before Eddie can respond, Bill is getting a word in as well.

“Ah so this is the f-famous Richie T-Tozier, huh?” he asks, eyes glancing between Eddie and Richie.

“We’ve heard  _ so  _ much about you,” Bev teases with a smirk and a little wink, making Eddie feel warm with embarrassment.

Eddie is expecting Richie to run with that, make a comment or a quip, take the chance to tease Eddie and annoy him. Drive him crazy in that way that makes Eddie want to drag him off somewhere and bend him over something. But Richie doesn’t. Eddie gives him a glance only to find the taller guy seeming to mentally weigh something. Oh no, maybe he’s gearing up for something that is going to make Eddie put a tomato to shame. So before he can start, Eddie is clearing his throat and introducing his friends.

“So uh, this is Bill and Bev, the only two people I talk about ever,” Eddie says with an awkward wave of his hand, and Richie gives the two of them a goofy little wave before focusing on Bev.

“Beverly Marsh, right? You’re the fashion designer?” Richie asks, and Bev just raises an eyebrow at him.

“I’m surprised you know who I am. Given your outfit and everything, honey,” she responds, equal parts charming and judgmental.

Richie gives a dramatic gasp, and throws a hand across his chest. It’s theatrical and ridiculous and it makes Eddie smile to see the way Bev clearly loves this show of drama.

“What’s wrong with my outfit!” Richie asks, faux-offended as he splays out his arms and shows off what he’s wearing.

Eddie gives a snort, and all eyes are back on him.

“Who the hell wears hawaiian shirts besides old retired straight dudes who live in Florida?” he asks, arms crossed over his chest as he tries to seem like he’s disagreeing with Richie’s fashion sense and not finding it incredibly charming.

“Uh, sexy motherfuckers, that’s who?” Richie responds, right on beat and Eddie gives a show of rolling his eyes.

Richie stands his ground, making eye contact with Eddie and practically challenging him to argue. Eddie stands tall and holds his gaze, a little staring contest that doesn’t really make any sense, but somehow makes Eddie feel really warm. Richie has nice eyes. He has a really nice face, a nice jawline. He’s got scruff, and Eddie really wants to run his hands over it, wants to feel the roughness against his fingertips. Eddie bites his lip, feeling a thrumming under his skin, the need to be closer. To touch. To kiss. To just... just be with Richie.

The sound of a throat clearing pulls Eddie from his Richie-induced trance, and as they turn to look at Bill, Richie doesn’t even have the goddamn decency to look even a quarter as culpable as Eddie feels. Asshole.

Bill reaches out a hand to Richie, clearly trying to avoid having to be in the presense of Eddie eye-fucking the guy in the middle of LAX.

“Bill Denbrough, n-nice to meet you Ri-Rich,” Bill says as Richie reaches out to shake his hand.

Recognition passes over Richie’s face and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Oh no shit? Denbrough, like the author?”

“The very s-same,” Bill reponds, a small smile on his face.

“Dude, your endings suck,” Richie responds, and Eddie wants to hit him.

Sure, Bill’s endings  _ do  _ suck, he and Bev had told him as much more times than they can count, but Eddie is fiercely protective of his friends. And he will throw punches at anyone who insults Bill or Bev. Except throwing a punch at the guy he wants to kiss the second they’re out of public doesn’t seem like the best idea, so he chooses a different route.

“Wait, you know how to read, Tozier?” Eddie asks, and Bev gives a loud laugh, giving him a swell of pride in his chest.

“I’ll have you know, I read at an upper 3rd grade level, Kaspbrak!” Richie responds, reaching up to adjust those definitely NOT adorable glasses of his, “these glasses aren’t just a hot fashion trend, you know.”

“Not that you two aren’t absolutely adorable, but we should probably get going so we don’t get caught in LA traffic,” Bev interrupts, and Eddie both loves her and hates her in this moment. Hates her because of the adorable comment. Loves her because getting in the car means getting Richie out of the public eye.

They all turn to head back to short term parking, and Eddie has to ball his hands into fists to avoid reaching for one of Richie’s hands. They’re in public. It’s too risky. There could be fans or photographers anywhere. But Richie’s hands are big and they’re probably warm, and Eddie wouldn’t even care if they were a bit sweaty. 

At one point Eddie moves to throw out his trashmouth sign, but Richie stops him, and it ends up in Richie’s backpack. Eddie doesn’t know why Richie would want to keep it. It’s just black sharpie on white construction paper, but Richie insisted. It makes Eddie feel warm and pleasant, and it makes it even harder to resist holding his hand. 

By the time they get back to Bill’s car, there’s a humming under Eddie’s skin. Having Richie right here with him, and not being able to touch him is a new form of torture he didn’t even know existed. Richie throws his suitcase into the trunk, and Eddie’s heart races. So close. So soon. All they have to do is get in the car. Richie climbs into the backseat, and Eddie follows on his heels, practically slamming the door behind them in the eagerness to get it closed. 

Richie opens his mouth to say something, but it never sees the light of day because Eddie is taking Richie’s face in both of his hands and kissing him. It’s firm and insistent, and it makes fireworks explode in Eddie’s veins. Maybe he’s being dramatic but it really does feel like every inch of him is alight with the kiss. With the feeling of Richie under his touch. With the softness of Richie’s lips. With the way the other man relaxes into the touch.

Eddie doesn’t even hear the sound of the front doors opening and closing, doesn’t feel the car engine start up, because Richie’s got one of his big warm hands on Eddie’s neck, and the other on his knee. If they were to get in a car wreck right now, Eddie knows he would die happy under Richie’s touch. 

When they finally break away, it’s only out of pure necessity to breathe. They don’t pull away, instead staying pressed close, breathing in each other's breath. Richie smells like coffee and tastes like pretzels. Eddie guesses he probably tastes like tea and anxiety. 

Richie’s eyes glance towards the front of the car, but Eddie doesn’t turn his gaze to see what the guy is looking at. Instead he pulls Richie back to him and kisses him again, deep and eager. Richie is a great kisser. Eddie will never forget that fact. It feels amazing to be kissed by him, and Eddie feels like it’s almost unfair that he gets kisses like this for free. He would give up what little money he has left to always be kissed like this and made to feel wanted.

Eddie makes an eager little noise into the kiss, one that might be just a touch desperate, and Richie breaks the kiss, practically gasping for breath. His cheeks and flushed, and his glasses are awry. When he speaks, his voice is a low mumble, the tone sending both a chill and a wave of heat through Eddie’s body.

“Eds you have no idea how much restraint it took not to kiss you like that in the middle of the airport,” he breathes out, hot and heavy against Eddie’s lips, “or drop to my knees.”

Eddie knows his face must be bright red, but he can’t help it. Richie makes him feel so much.

Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie catches Bev looking into the backseat at them, and now the main thing Eddie is feeling is pure embarrassment. He pulls back enough to give Richie a playful smack, but the comedian just laughs and hits him with a blinding grin.

“Oh man I'm glad you guys are cool with this,” Richie says as he turns his attention up to Bill and Bev, “I was gonna die if I had to wait until we got to his place to kiss him.”

Eddie doesn’t comment, instead he just moves closer to Richie, plastering himself to the guy’s side, and buries his face in Richie’s neck. It’s nice to be close and touch like this, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate to do what he’s been dying to do since he saw Richie come around that corner: he reaches out for his hand, taking it in his and intertwining their fingers. He’s feeling tired from his earlier anxiety attack, and the haze of medication is coming back just a little. He doesn’t mind it though, not when he has a warm solid body to curl up against.

Richie glances down at him, something warm and oh so fond in his eyes, before he turns back to Eddie’s friends.

“I  _ will  _ refrain from sucking his dick in the backseat though,” Richie adds, with a big grin on his features.

“Shut up,” Eddie cuts in, except there’s no real malice in his words, “seriously just shut up Richie.”

Richie glances down at him and leans in close. Close enough to share breaths, but not close enough to kiss. 

“Why don’t you make me?” Richie asks, voice breathy and challenging, making Eddie’s whole body react. 

“Maybe I will…” Eddie responds, eyes locked on those perfect lips, “there’s a lot better things you could be doing with that mouth.”

“Hey! Hey, n-no dirty talking in m-my car, guys!” Bill calls into the backseat, and at least this time Richie has the decency to go a little red.

“Aw give them a break, Bill. Eddie’s only newly gay,” Bev reasons, and Eddie turns up a defiant nose to Richie.

“Yeah, I am. What’s your excuse, perv?” Eddie challenges, knowing fully well that all of the canoodling going on back here has been entirely his fault.

“My excuse?” Richie asks, with a lifted brow, “my excuse is that you’re in the car with me, and you look edible in those jeans, Eds.”

Eddie doesn’t know if he should flush, hit Richie, glare, or jump the guy. It’s all so conflicting. They’re holding eye contact again, and if Eddie wasn’t eye-fucking Richie when they were still in the airport, then he sure as hell is now.

“Uh Eddie, we're not gonna see you at all until Richie leaves, are we?” Bill asks, and Richie’s gaze turns back towards the front seat again.

With his head turned, Richie is giving Eddie perfect access to his neck and well, Eddie is only human. And gay. He’s only gay and human. And when you’re gay and human and presented with the opportunity to get your mouth on Richie Tozier, you jump on that opportunity.

“Nope!” Richie answers for Eddie cheerfully, before a surprised little gasp leaves his mouth at the exact moment Eddie presses his lips to Richie’s neck.

It’s just a gentle kiss, but that one gentle kiss leads to another. And another. Which leads to Eddie giving a small nip to Richie’s skin. He can feel the man’s breath, rough and unsteady, and honestly? Eddie could get drunk on the rush of power that gives him. Being able to make Richie feel things, to make Richie unsteady and cause his breath to shake? It’s addicting. So Eddie does that again, bites at Richie’s skin, a little bit harder this time, and is rewarded with the feeling of Richie’s free hand sliding from his knee up to his thigh. It’s hot and electric and Eddie has just about zero inhibitions about what he’s doing right now.

Richie’s been on a plane for hours, he hasn’t washed his neck in who knows how long, there’s probably germs and sweat and who knows what living on the surface of Richie’s neck. But Eddie doesn’t care about how sanitary this is for once in his life. Instead, he bites and sucks on Richie’s skin, reveling in all of the little reactions he can pull from Richie with just his teeth and lips.

“F-fuck, Eddie woah, you’re gonna leave a mark,” Richie breathes out, “slow down, man.”

Eddie makes a disappointed noise and pulls back, but not before licking a stripe over Richie’s abused skin and making the taller guy shiver. Richie tilts his head down to capture Eddie’s in a kiss, and this time it’s not insistent or firm. It’s slow, and somewhat gentle, but definitely very very good. Eddie doesn’t remember ever enjoying kissing someone as much as he enjoys kissing Richie. It tracks though. He’s gay and never been with a guy other than Richie. Though even if he was a super experienced gay, he still doubts anyone would have ever made him feel like this. Desperate, itching for more. More more more. Even if that more is just gentle touches and lazy kisses. He’s desperate for sex, sure, but more than that he’s desperate for  _ Richie. _

By the time they pull into Eddie’s driveway, Eddie’s half hard and fully convinced that he’s never letting Richie go back to New York. It takes Bev’s voice calling him back into the present and her hand gently shaking his shoulder to get them to break apart, and even when they stop kissing, Eddie doesn’t remove himself from where he’s plastered against Richie. It feels warm and happy and comfortable here, and he doesn’t want to leave.

Eventually they do have to stumble out of the car, and Eddie would be lying if he said he doesn’t feel proud of the way Richie subtly adjusts his jeans, face flushed and breathing still heavy. Richie retrieves his suitcase from the back of the car, and stops to take in the sight of Eddie’s place. It’s small and nothing special. Eddie hates how exposed he feels, letting Richie, Mr hot shot SNL cast member NYC penthouse, look into the not-so-glamorous part of his life.

“Well you two have fun,” Bev says, with a knowing smile and a purposeful wink. 

Richie throws an “oh we will” over towards her and she just laughs before approaching Eddie. This time when she speaks her voice is lower, words for Eddie’s ears only.

“Call if you need us to talk you down again, Eddie. You’re gonna have a great time with him, and there’s no way he cares about anything other than spending time with you,” Bev explains, and when Eddie just gives her an unsure look, she adds, “trust me, honey. I saw the way he looks at you.”

Bill and Bev say their goodbyes, but before they climb back into the car to leave, Eddie is grabbing their attention once more, with hands in his pockets and a blush on his face.

“Sorry about the uh...” he starts awkwardly, feeling his face get even redder, “um, us. In the car.”

“Don’t be,” Bev responds easily, setting Eddie’s nerves at ease, “it’s nice to see you so happy, Eddie.”

Eddie doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he just says his final goodbyes and gives a little wave as he watches Bill’s car fade off down the street.

“So do I get to see where the magic happens now?” Richie asks, waggling his eyebrows at Eddie when the guy turns to look at him. 

“If by ‘where the magic happens’ you mean ‘my shitty house’ then yeah sure,” Eddie answers, and Richie just grins.

They’re too far away. Any time they’re not touching it’s too far. Eddie wants to change that, and fast. He hesitates just a moment before approaching Richie, taking his hand in his and linking their fingers again. Sure he has neighbors and sure anyone could see them right now, but Eddie’s willing to take that risk if it means Richie will keep smiling at him with that happy look in his eyes.

“All right, time to show you where the magic happens.”


End file.
